


A Little More Touch My Body

by Shejo



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Trans Character, F/M, it's just porn y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 07:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12979125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shejo/pseuds/Shejo
Summary: It’s eight years after the Day of Story and Song, and Barry can’t believe he’s forgotten something very important about Elves until now.





	A Little More Touch My Body

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes: this is based on InterstellarVagabond's concept of Luume'irma or "Time of Desire" which is an elven equivalent of Pon Farr. So basically a fuckfest. You can find some cool stuff from their tumblr on the subject including a brief facts post: http://interstellarvagabond.tumblr.com/post/168314196059/luumeirma-fact-post
> 
> I was just so inspired by the idea that I had to write some good blupjeans. I just couldn't fucking help myself. My gf and I started riffing and this born
> 
> For this fic I took a few liberties and went with the magical origins of the cycle rather than strictly biological ones, which are explained in the fic itself. 
> 
> Also some facts: Lup makes weird sex faces and is very extra

 

Lup isn’t awake yet when he pours his coffee—He’s always been the early bird of the two. A remnant of those “early to bed, early to rise” days of his childhood. Today, in particular, his wife mumbled something about a headache as he rose from the bed, so he left the curtains closed and tiptoed downstairs as not to aggravate the ailment any more than necessary.

Barry sips his coffee and contemplates bringing her a fantasy Motrin since she also radiated heat all night long beside him. Perhaps she caught something off Taako’s slushie she stole sips from a few days ago.

He spies the date on the newspaper and there’s a blip of vague recognition. It wasn’t an anniversary or a birthday. That much he knows from a quick glance at the empty “Neverwinter’s Sexiest Firefighters” calendar that hangs in the kitchen. And then—

“Ha—Oh _shit_ ,” he exclaims to himself. He hears Lup stir upstairs. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Barry scribbles two notes: one for Lup and one for himself. He doesn’t want to forget anything else. He’s already made a grave, grave error in forgetting so much already.

He doesn’t even bother changing from his pajamas, just throws a coat on and his boots and curses all the way to fantasy HEB.

 

* * *

 

It’s _luume’irma_. Lup’s _luume’irma,_ specifically, and they are woefully unprepared. Then he remembers Taako, and swears some more under his breath as he browses for chips. Hopefully, it hadn’t caught him as off guard as it would his sister, who had not experienced her cycle in her corporeal body for some time.

“B-Barry,” his stone of far-speech calls out. Lup’s voice is breathy where it’s usually firm and commanding. “It’s—”

“I know,” he cuts her off. “I’m on it, Babe.”

She sighs in response, but it’s more like rapid flutters of air leaving her lungs. “You’re so good, Barry. . . _so, so good_. . .” And he feels his face begin to redden. He’s not exactly alone in the aisle.

He asks her if she’s okay as he picks out a flavor of ice cream. Her favorite: mint chocolate chip. She says she’s fine, just unbearably hot despite the fact that she only slept in a pair of panties.

“Don’t forget the—”

“Whipped cream. Already got it.”

“Well, what about the—”

“Salty snacks. For balance. I got ‘em.”

He can hear the smile in the hitch in her voice.

Barry may have forgotten about the cycle, but he could never forget the half-century spent learning how to make this time of the decade as pleasurable as possible for her.

There’s another hitch in her breathing and he asks, “Babe, are you. . .while we’re on the stone?”

“No!” she exclaims. “The sheets are really nice, Bar. Like _really_ fucking nice—”

“Okay, babe,” he says a little too loudly as he jumps into the check out line with their supplies: ice cream and all the fixin’s, chips, some fantasy Marlboros for the aftermath, a bottle of lube he found interesting enough to buy just for shits and giggles.  “I’ll be home soon. I’m checking out now.”

“Tell them to hurry it up because I can’t stop thinking about you thrusting that monster cock in my—”

Barry shoves the stone of far-speech into his pocket and pretends to be shocked at the amount of fantasy Big Red by the counter. Not that her stern, yet breathless utterance of the phrase “monster cock” hadn’t already drawn the attention of everyone behind him.

His blush spreads down to his neck and he flexes his arm to prevent the inevitable blood rush into his pajama pants.

He remembers the first _luume’irma_ they shared. How his heart threatened to give out each time she rocked herself in his lap to ease the fire within her; how she tossed her head of tight blonde curls. And all Barry could do was hold on. Let her show him how she needed to be touched during this time as she worked herself over his body. Even face down and ass up Lup would use any leverage she could to fuck herself back onto him because: _Dammit, Barry, more! More!_  The words only a rasp as she looked back at him, lip caught between her teeth and hair clinging to her face after hours of rigorous lovemaking.

“Huh?” Barry snaps out of the memory when the cashier asks him a question he didn’t hear.

“Didn’t want to change out of your PJs today?” she asks with a smile. She’s a kindly gnome woman.

Without much thought he says, “No time. No time for any of us.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, uh, sorry. That probably sounded more ominous than it needed to.”

The cashier eyes him, but if only she knew just how ugly it could get if he doesn’t make it home fast. Say Taako got to the house before him, he could very well be cleaning twin Elf blood after they almost rip each other’s throats out because one (probably Taako) decided to say the exact wrong thing to get at the other (probably Lup).

Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.

“Will that be cash or—”

“Check.” Barry always writes checks. He prefers it that way.

There’s silence as the gnome hauls out the book of bad checks to verify that he’s not in it.

“Listen,” he says in his best impression of his brother-in-law. “I’ve never written a bad check in my life. And I know you’re just doin’ your job, I get it. But my wife is in a _very_ , uh—she’s in a state and I gotta—”

“Sir, you just wrote me a check for 20 gold in groceries.”

 _That’s fair_ , he thinks and apologizes. Tells her that he’s just worried for his wife, which is true, but he’s also exhilarated by the prospect of getting home to Lup. Of getting to watch her come, and come, and come. . .

He tries to shake it off the entire way home or else the short trip will seem like an eternity.

 

* * *

 

When he opens the front door, Lup is just how he left her—disheveled and partially nude as she begins to plant hot kisses all over his neck and face. She utters phrases in Elvish he’s pretty sure he’s only heard in X-rated productions.

“H-hold on there, Babe!” he says. “I gotta put the cold stuff up and then I’m all yours. Anything you want, but you’re gonna be mad if your post-sex ice cream is melted.”

Lup groans and relents, but only enough to allow him room to walk as she wraps her arms around him, rubs her hands under his shirt and makes slow circles on his belly with her palm. Her fingers catch in the trail of hair, her breath is labored and hot against the back of his neck.

Putting away the groceries takes longer than it should with Lup’s tongue teasing the curve of his ear as she removes his shirt, but Barry manages to get the essentials away before he turns to her and walks her back into the kitchen counter.

She braces herself against granite and throws her head back to give Barry access to her neck when he finally starts to return her affections from earlier.          

“Barry, please, we can go slow later,” she says as she hops up on the counter, pulls him to her.

“I know you like it to hurt a little, Lup, but I’m not going in dry.”

Her hand smacks his chest, but her eyes are half-lidded and wanton. “No, nerd, I did that while you were gone.”

He’s a little disappointed he missed the show, but understands that her first release probably needs to come in the very near future. There would be plenty of time later for him to lavish her with his hands, his mouth, toys. . .

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t do a quick peek under the hood as it were just to be sure. The thought of Lup making herself ready for him while he was out makes his head dizzy and his cock hard.

Her hands shove at the waist of his pants as he roams his lips from the dip in her collarbone to the slope of her breast. He shoos her hand away to get at the only garment she’s wearing. But Lup’s frenzied hands and their hips grinding hard into each other prevents Barry from removing them completely.  It’s just rolled up silk and lace dangling from one knee now.

He grunts when her fingers manage to pull him from his pants, and he dips his fingers to test her.

“I thought you were coming back up after coffee,” she whispers. “I missed you when you didn’t come back.” 

“Shit,” he says, mouth against a taut nipple. “I’m sorry. I was in a rush when I realized—”

“Barry, shut the fuck up and sling that thing inside me.”

His nostrils flare. Even when she’s desperate Lup is a hurricane; a commanding vortex that demands the trees, the oceans, the sky bend to her will.

Her hips wiggle to try to sink onto him, and Barry has to still them in his hands. Holds her in a tight grip against the surface below her. “Easy there,” he says and he’s not trying to tease her on purpose.

Barry knows that this first round is going to be a doozy—it always is—but this time will be made more so by the fact that the last _luume’irma_ Lup experienced had been within the umbrastaff. The magical nature of the cycle meant that even in lich form, Lup would continue them since she was a being of pure magic now. Without her corporeal body, she told him, the only way to burn that energy was to try to center it to communicate with Taako that Candlenights so many years ago with a burnt etching of her name in a wall and a tray of destroyed macarons.

Barry throws both of her legs on his shoulders, beckons her to lay back. She radiates like a sun in his arms. She looks ethereal even as she writhes against the cool surface that he hopes will bring her a little relief from the heat of her skin.

He leans forward to kiss her cheek, jaw, brow. She bends with him and he can tell by the look on her face that if he were inside of her, she would be wrecked.

He whispers in her ear, suckles at the lobe as he guides himself to her entrance.

“B-Bar. . .” Lup sounds hoarse, unsteady.

His palm splays against her stomach as he works his cock into her slow. More caution than anything else. He doesn’t want to unintentionally overstimulate, or even hurt, her by doing too much, too fast. All this despite that she keens under him and that makes him want to give her exactly what she wants—a rough ride right out of the buckin’ chute. How can he not when her gaze is so lusty? When her face is so gorgeously flushed from cheek to freckled cheek? When she sinks herself further onto him and arches and whines, “Give it to me!”?

And on any other day that’s just Lup overperforming, which she likes to do so that he’ll laugh even as he’s balls deep because he “looks too serious.” Today, though, _she’s_ serious. She sounds exhausted with need and her eyes are alight with a look she once described as the “intense desire to make many, many half-elf babies.”

He thrusts shallow at first, hip bones flush with the curve of her ass, and watches her eyes roll right in the back of her head like she’s swallowed something sour. He wishes he could capture that to show her how goofy, yet undeniably sexy she looks.

And, Gods! He forgot how hot _luume’irma_ would make her feel around him.

Fingers clasp his neck as she pulls herself forward and up with a sharp “Oh, _fuck_!”

He holds her to him, one hand brushed against her spine. She’s almost completely folded now and spread over him tight. Then he notices the ignored clit between them—hard and achingly so from what he can tell. Before he can get one turn in, she is clawing at both sides of his head. Hands tear at his thick brown curls and she grins that wicked grin he adores so much. Her fuck-grin.

It breaks through the haze of _luume’irma_ and she says, “I want the good good shit first, Barold.”

“Is that why you haven’t touched yourself yet?” he asks, amused. “Y-you, uh, afraid you might be a two-pump chump this time, Babe?”

Lup’s eyes widen and her jaw drops, but he knows her outrage is only temporary. That she’ll congratulate him on the primo banter later. Now, however, she digs the crossed ankles at the nape of his neck right between the shoulder blades and clicks her tongue repeatedly as though she’s asking a horse to go from a trot to a dead ass run.

“F-fuck, Lup!” Barry says.

She clenches around him, takes in all of his girth as he moans against her ear and drags her over his dick in successive, hard thrusts.

He lifts her then, holds her secure against his wider frame to bring her to the hardwood floor below. Now she’s the one that curses, throws her head back to reveal a sweat slicked neck. He marvels at how even in a position where he has the most leverage, Lup matches him stroke for stroke, absorbs every last bit of him that he gives her.

Pan bless her dexterity.

After a brief intermission of scratching at his chest, Lup’s hands have found his hair again and she runs her tongue along Barry’s bottom lip, which is already half-open and panting against her.

The gasp she makes when he finally gets a hand around her is choked, guttural. He knows that his calloused hands on that velvet hardness has her in a tizzy because the tugs on his scalp become sharper and sharper with each pull and she’s chanting, “D-don’t stop, Barry, don’t stop.  Don’t you dare fucking stop!”

He doesn’t plan on it.

“Do you know how much I fucking love you?” His own voice is gruff and breathless now, and he doesn’t take his eyes off hers.

He presses hasty kisses along her chin when she stiffens under him. His hand jerks her harder, faster as he pounds into her with the same rhythm.

Lup’s chest heaves, almost like a sob as she clutches him. “Y-yes! Yes, Barry, fuck!” Her body rocks beneath him in vibrant, heavenly orgasm. Her face twists in pleasure again as she coats his fingers.

He fucks her through it and the final pulses of her walls around him has him shuddering through his own climax that spills into her.

Lup still makes high-pitched noises in the back of her throat as Barry kisses each knee that braces his head, and untangles himself from her legs with gentle hands. He pulls out as tender as he pushed in and rolls off beside her on the floor.

They’re both spent, but _luume’irma_ will have Lup bouncing back in no time. At least with that initial round, she’ll be sated enough to allow Barry to please her in other ways until he can get hard again.

She’s got a lazy smile on her face as they catch their breath together.

Barry hates to admit it, but he still gets heart palpitations when they have sex like that. Sex with Lup Taaco was like wrestling a wildcat sometimes.

“You tryin’ to kill me, Babe?” he pants and Lup turns to face him. Her eyes are a little glazed over with satisfaction, yet he can see the anticipation for the coming days underneath it. She runs deft fingers across her own face and neck. She revels and hums in appreciation.

He’s fucked the words right out of her.

“Thinkin’ about if it’s possible to bang me right out of my body?”

“Mmhm.”

And they both laugh at that.

Lup pulls herself closer to him, feels his heart thrum against her palm. He brings his wider hand to cover hers as she rakes her fingertips through the coarse, sweat-damp hair there. She likes that there's traces of silver there.

Her ministrations soothe him, and she whispers sweet words of love and devotion into his ear in Elvish. He doesn’t even notice he nodded off until he hears Lup clear and strong like a clap of thunder: “Hey! Who’s a girl gotta blow to get a post-sex ice cream sundae?!”

He wakes with laughter that bursts from deep in his belly. How could he have forgotten _luume’irma_?

                 

               

               

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to check out InterstellarVagabond on tumblr for more GOOD GOOD LUUME'IRMA!
> 
> -A-Yo Plays in the Background-


End file.
